


Angelic Displays

by teaandchess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Birds, F/M, Nesting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 04:24:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10891635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandchess/pseuds/teaandchess
Summary: Over the years, Castiel has come to realize he's chosen his perfect mate. Now he just has to show her how he feels





	Angelic Displays

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Qzil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qzil/gifts), [BleedingInk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingInk/gifts).



> This is entirely the fault of a post about the mating habits of ostriches. That's all I got to explain.

Castiel watched the demons go after Sam’s curt dismissal of them. He found it unsettling, the way the demon had looked at him so covertly, how her eyes had lingered, and he wasn’t sure what to do. Turning, he watched as they disappeared around the corner and the demon turned one last time. This time she was smiling, her dark hair tossed over her shoulder and her lips pulled into such a grin that it made his stomach lurch. What he saw underneath was confusing. A mass of grey and shadow, of scars and hate.

“She’s beautiful,” he muttered.

Dean turned, eyebrows raised. “Say again?”

“Oh, nothing,” Castiel said. He cleared his throat. “Demons are disgusting to angels, you know. We can see what they really are.”

“Sure,” Dean said but he didn’t sound wholly convinced.

But when she kissed him that night, when he crushed her lips to his to return the momentary intimacy, he had felt everything in him want to display his power and strength to her. He wanted to show her everything about him to see if it impressed her.

That was when he knew he was in trouble.

~~

The angels were no help in the matter. Dealing with the other angels as closely as he was, he was determined to forget the demon that he had experienced his first kiss with and he thought that maybe another angel, such as Rachel or Hannah, attractive angels in their own right and even without the vessels, were good candidates for his attention if he was inclined. Try as he might though, he was, frankly, bored by the idea of it.

It was all very confusing. Why didn’t he feel that way to his own kind? It made no sense.

It came up in conversation with Dean one night when he’d found the elder Winchester drinking and watching a soap opera. Dean barely reacted to his presence, likely finding Castiel less a threat to his reputation than Sam. Castiel took a careful seat on the other chair and wrinkled his brow as he watched the soap opera. A buxom redhead was seducing the wealthy billionaire, Dean had explained, because her dead sister who was a nun had returned and needed a face transplant. It was all very confusing.

Castiel stared at the woman. “Is she considered attractive?”

Dean glanced at him. “Sorry?”

He gestured. “This actress. She is attractive, correct?”

“Wouldn’t kick her out of bed, that’s for sure,” Dean said with a grin. Castiel exhaled sharply. Dean tilted his head at him. “Do you find her attractive?”

“She is very pretty, I suppose,” Castiel answered.

“But?”

“I have no interest in her.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Dean agreed. He pointed at the male co-star. “And him?”

“Nothing.” Castiel considered the actor. “How would he attract a partner?”

“The usual I guess. Why do you ask?”

“I’m very confused by human rituals when it comes to romance and sex.”

“Huh. Do angels get…feelings?”

Castiel looked at him sharply. “Of course we do.”

“Towards each other?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you?”

The angel winced. “Not lately.”

“Ever?”

“I appreciate external beauty as much as anyone. However what I’ve felt in the past has been fleeting. Hardly anything to be worth noting.” He looked at Dean. “You?”

“Man, give me a pretty girl and add some friskiness to it and I’m usually set,” Dean said with a grin and wink. “Maybe you haven’t met the right person, Cas.”

“That’s possible.” He thought fleetingly of that demon, Meg, and shook his head. “No, that is very likely. I have no real interest in relationships as it is. I am an angel after all.”

Dean took a long pull of his beer and then smacked his lips together. “Why are we talking about this? Something bothering you?”

“I…no.”

“Ah huh.” Dean leaned forward. “Just, do me a favour, okay? Don’t watch more porn. That isn’t romance.”

“Yes I know.” Castiel turned his attention back to the television. “I think I will just mark this as curiosity. Nothing more.”

~~

Except it wasn’t and he knew it. In between his battles and tortures and interrogations, Castiel found himself thinking too much about what to do. When possible, he pushed it to the back of his mind and there it sat for years. Where it was going to stay, he was determined.

But still, sometimes? He found himself experimenting with making his feathers tangible in the earthly existence and grooming himself when he had no need to really do it.

It didn’t make any sense.

~~~

Meg was lying low, as she had been in her way avoiding them all. Castiel watched over her the way he did the Winchesters but she was often so busy with her own battles that she never really noticed his invisible presence.

It was how he found himself at her hotel room one night, a one star motel room that had more water spots and dust than he liked, listening to her blasting rock music as she spent her usual hour in the bath. He had her routine memorized when she wasn’t out killing things. A bath, music, bad soap operas, some tequila, and a lot of grumbling about Crowley.

He looked at the bed and frowned. It smelt bad even. It didn’t suit her. Not at all. It wasn’t what she needed.

Castiel shook his head. That thought made no sense, what did he care?

The bath stopped running and he walked to the door, pressing his ear to the sigil painted wood to listen as Meg talked to herself. Smiling fondly, he turned around and looked at the bed. It still bothered him. It was so…so…

Unworthy.

Frustrated, he grabbed the musty comforter and rustled it so it formed a comfortable lump of material. Grabbing the pillows, he pushed them around to form a small half circle. Some internal satisfaction made him smile and nod before reaching to his back. It took some concentrating, some exertion of Grace, but with a small spark of pain he yanked a handful of tiny feathers from his wings. For some reason, his heart began to hammer in his chest as he sprinkled them on the comforter and pillows. The sight of them… it was good.

He smiled.

It was a start.

~~

Castiel carried that satisfaction with him for weeks after. He wondered what Meg had thought of it, longed to ask her, but the most he ever received in their weekly chats was a puzzled frown and maybe a confused glance up and down. So he remained pleased with himself for being demonstrative, did it twice more, and then turned his attention to the problems of Heaven. And occasionally the Winchesters. Mostly the Winchesters lately.

The bar smelt of demon and Castiel wrinkled his nose as he sat beside Dean and Sam at the low table. “Hey Cas,” Dean said, tired by the way his eyes drooped and his voice slurred.

“Dean, Sam.” He was about to ask why they called when he saw her, flitting in and out of the crowd. Blinking a few times to make sure it was Meg, Castiel sat back and straightened up. Dean frowned at the obvious eagerness on Castiel’s face and nudged Sam. Both men turned and then groaned.

“What is she doing here?” Dean groaned but before Castiel could answer Meg had reached them and she looked murderous.

“Okay, what’s the joke?” she demanded, her eyes fixed on Castiel.

“Joke?”

“There’s gotta be a punchline here.”

Sam waved his hand. “Hold on, we have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Meg dug into her coat pockets. “Your angel boy there has been leaving me things in my rooms.” She produced two handfuls of feathers from her leather coat and dumped them on the table. “I just have to guess that this is some sort of angelic joke I don’t get.”

Castiel considered the pile. It had to be all his feathers he’d left behind. “You’ve been keeping them?” he asked. The delight in his voice made Sam give him a sharp look but Dean was checking a feather curiously.

“That’s not the point. I want to know what’s up. Did you two nerds get him to do this?”

“Nothing we put him up to.” Dean took a sip of his drink. “Angels do have weird senses of humour.”

“It’s no joke,” Castiel said. “I thought…that is… I had hoped, you would appreciate it.”

“Oh yeah, you screwing with my bed, leaving angel dirt around is really what I need in life,” Meg snapped as she crossed her arms over her chest. “So spill.”

Castiel swiped nervously at the back of his neck as both Winchesters looked at him.

“Cas?” Dean prompted. “Before Meg keeps on screeching? I’ve got a killer headache.”

“It is a gesture. That’s all.” Castiel refused to look at any of them. Sam looked at the pile of feathers. He turned one over a few times. Then he grinned.

“Heh.”

Both Castiel and Meg looked at him sharply. “What?” The demon sounded murderous.

“It’s just…kind of funny, you know? I mean, in biology I used to read about birds doing this.” Castiel shook his head at Sam as they made eye contact and the young man continued to grin. “It’s like a nesting thing. A mating ritual”

Meg stared at them both. “Say again?” Then she shook her head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. Clarence, knock it off.”

He nodded.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Dean asked and she stood up.

“None of your business but I have some contacts to meet.” She looked over at the huddle of men in the corner. “Duty calls.”

Castiel turned in his chair to watch her go but at a loud rumble from Dean he looked around.

“Feathers, Cas?”

“It was just… a gesture. Of friendship.”

The lie sounded stupid even to Castiel.

“Yeah huh.” Dean shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

~~

It was only worse a week later as Castiel’s strangeness continued. Even he was surprised at himself as his actions began to become stranger. He found himself listening closely to Dean’s music as it blared in the bunker, swaying from side to side as he read the books he’d been assigned.

Sam caught him pirouetting a step one night. “You okay?” he asked as he turned down the Led Zeppelin blaring. “Lemon Song isn’t really what I’d call dance music.”

Castiel had no real concept of what he was talking about. “I was merely enjoying it.”

“Sure thing.” The buzzer for the outer door sounded and he shook his head. “I’ll get that.”

Castiel began humming to himself loudly as the song continued and turned to Rolling Stones’ Come On next. Even as Meg came into the room, Sam on her heels, he didn’t stop. Her appearance only heightened his desire to prove he could move.

He would have been horrified if he realized just how badly he danced. He moved and swivelled and bounced and shimmied and the ridiculousness of the sight escaped him.

Meg arched both brows. “What’s with the Dad dancing?”

Sam was embarrassed for his friend. “He’s been working long hours,” he said for an excuse.

“Right,” Meg said. “Look, I got that info you needed. Where’s my payment?”

She handed over the folder and Sam took it to the back room as Castiel continued his strange dancing. Meg leaned against a shelf, turning up the volume on the music player, and smiled despite herself as she watched.

“What’s up, bird brain?” she called out and he spun abruptly on his heel. Meg frowned. “I’m not a Stones’ fan really. Let’s try…”

Muddy Waters blared instead and Castiel stopped swaying. The deepness of the music suddenly burned into him and he found himself staring at Meg.

“I can feel your heartbeat,” he said.

“You know how I feel about poetry,” Meg drawled.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurted out. It didn’t shock her.

“Bet you say that to all the demons,” she said as she put her hands behind her back. Castiel looked around the room.

“I wish…” he shook his head. “Never mind. What colour do you like?”

“For what?” She grinned. “Making me something?”

“Perhaps.” His honesty made her stare with her jaw slack. “Colour?”

“Violet, I guess. Or red like, blood. There’s a shock, I know,” Meg said, trying to be flippant. Castiel smiled.

“Thank you.”

Then he was gone in the blink of an eye and Meg stared, confused at where he had stood. “Weird,” she whispered and then turned to find Sam to collect their bargain.

~

Meg wasn’t prepared for Dean’s phone call that she should come to the bunker immediately. No questions asked either. Chalking it up to a trap, she was prepared for holy water in the face and a knife in the back when she came through the door, not for Dean to nearly sprint to her.

“You gotta see this,” he said. His overt friendliness was confusing and she nearly blinked out to avoid him.

“Whoa, slow down.” She took in the common room. It was strewn with silver streamers and confetti and smelt of cookies. “What is this? Slumber party night or something?”

“I’m hoping you can answer that. He’s your boyfriend now, remember?”

“Ok, not funny,” she said, but Dean took her by the elbow. “Grabby!”

“He’s been off his rocker again and I hope you know why.” He propelled her down the hall to the basement. “He’s been insisting on ‘decorating’. Which isn’t like Cas at all.”

“Okay,” Meg said, “but what does that have to do with me?”

“Look, if you don’t help me, I’ll tell Crowley where you’re hiding.” She glared at him and he grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

They rounded the corner and Meg put the brakes on immediately as glittering silver dangled around her. Mirror after mirror hung from fishing line on the ceiling. She’d never admit it to Dean but it was beautiful, like walking into a mirrored hall. It also was slightly nauseating the way the silver shone and blinded her.

Sam was leaning against the wall, grinning stupidly.

“What?” she grumbled.

“He did say to call you, that you’d understand. I hope you can.”

“This is all beyond me,” she said as she rounded the corner into the junk room and came face to face with a very naked, purple painted angel. She nearly broke into laughter but something made her stop. Maybe it was knowing she’d hurt his feelings. She wasn’t sure, it wasn’t something she normally cared about. All she knew was that Castiel was doused in sparkly violet paint and was standing in the middle of the room. He was knee-deep in purple feathers that fluttered in the air with each step he took. He was moving strangely, back and forth, arms raised and head snaked forward. There was a faint hum as he moved and Meg thought that the sound was coming from him.

“What…the…hell…” she whispered.

“We’d hope you’d know.”

“Like something out of a Prince music video,” she muttered. The paint had soaked him and Castiel had to keep blinking to keep it from creasing and dripping into his eyes. Still he focussed on his odd steps. “Uh, Clarence?”

His head jerked up and he spotted her.

Standing between Dean and Sam, Meg suddenly felt very on point. “Care to explain?” she asked.

There was a loud singing sound, like metal being struck, and suddenly there was a swarm of shadow behind him. His wings stretched from one side of the room to the other and then around the walls, Meg having the sensation that she was being touched by feathers.

Then suddenly, with a disappointing pop, Castiel’s wings seemed to transform into physical shape and they were as purple as the rest of him.

“I’ve got to get a photo of this,” Dean said and Sam swatted him, snatching his phone out of his hand.

“Cas,” he called. “Uh, buddy, what’s up?”

The wings being displayed flared upward in an odd semi-circle around Castiel’s head as he walked toward them. Dean and Sam made a show of looking anywhere but at the nude angel while Meg could only look at Castiel’s eyes. They had turned a hypnotic brilliant white-blue and when he came to stand toe to toe with her, she felt her knees quake a little at the power she saw there.

“This is so weird, Clarence,” she said.

“I agree,” he said. “I’ve not felt this way before.”

Before she could stop him, he grasped her hand and pulled her into his arms. He spun her about and looped his arms around her waist. Meg made a muffled cry as violet paint smeared her from head to toe while Castiel held her, his face burying into her hair and inhaling deeply.

“You smell good,” he whispered.

“Uh, Cas?” Dean said.

Meg was about to pull away when she felt Castiel’s naked body responding to her closeness. Never one to ruin an opportunity, she wriggled a little. “Clarence?”

“Stay with me,” he whispered, ignoring Sam and Dean. “Dance with me.”

His mouth closed around her earlobe and began to nibble.

“Not a…not a…dancer,” Meg said, struggling to focus.

“You know,” Sam said, catching Dean by his collar. “I think… I think we’re just gonna go. Meg, you’re good?”

“Huh?” she asked, the heat emanating off Castiel’s body dizzying.

“Wait, what?” Dean asked but Sam was dragging him behind to the door. It made a loud bang and with it took Meg’s remaining thoughts of escape.

“Clarence,” she said but his hands were moving over her body, unbuckling and unzipping as they went. He sucked and bit at her neck, causing her eyes to flutter closed as she arched into him. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve chosen you,” he said, simply. “No one else will do.”

“Oh.”

His fingers trailed through her hair, removing tangles and smoothing it down her back. His mouth began to move over her shoulder as he tugged her shirt down. “I’ve waited years to be sure.”

“Oh.” Meg felt her head beginning to get fuzzy again as he removed her shirt and started on her bra.

“Is this…acceptable?”

Meg felt herself being wrapped tightly in feathery softness that gleamed purple in the shine of the mirrors. She caught their reflection in one. Castiel loomed over her, his face buried in her hair as he stroked her body. She was coated in the paint, she sparkled as much as he did. It was the weirdest, hottest thing she’d seen recently.

“Oh why the fuck not?” she muttered as she took his hand and pulled it to cup her breast.

He huffed happily against the back of her neck and they spun together into the depths of the room. They landed with a thump and immediately he was on her, mouth pressing to hers, fingers lacing through her hair. Meg felt the feathery carpet drifting around them and laughed as she held him tightly against her, legs hooking around his hips.

It wasn’t the strangest part of their relationship, she decided, when Castiel began to recite poetry in a singsong voice. Not that she understood a word of it as she rolled him to his back and began to kick her clothing off. He was singing in Enochian so loudly that she was sure the Winchesters could hear.

Naturally, it made her need to shut him up for a while. She forced him to sit up so that she could force his mouth to her breasts, where his mouth was put to far better use after that.

~~

Midway through breakfast, Dean looked up at the sound of someone walking up the hall. He was prepared for a lot of things, but the sight of a purple drenched Meg, wrapped in a bed sheet with Castielfollowing behind her. She was coated in feathers as if the paint had been tar and glitter was in her hair. His arm slung around Meg’s shoulders, Castiel tugged her close and guided her down the hall into the common room.

Still naked, the angel looked as if he’d been thoroughly, happily, fucked. Dean glanced at Meg rather than have to stare much longer at his naked friend and noticed the satisfied grin on her face. Also thoroughly fucked, by his guess.

Sam dropped his bowl of oatmeal on the floor at the sight of them.

“You… you guys okay?” he asked.

“Better than,” Meg said as she came to the table and sat down. Castiel drew a chair up beside hers and began to quietly push his fingers through her hair. Oddly sedate, the demon let him, her eyes closed as he groomed her.

“This is so weird,” Dean muttered and Sam nodded. “Meg, you look like…”

“You’d be amazed,” Castiel said, “at how athletic a demon is.”

“Shut it right now,” Dean warned.

The angel made a face and plucked a tiny feather from Meg’s shoulder. As she reached for the coffee pot, he weaved it quickly into her hair and grinned. “Perfect.”

Both brothers were amazed that the gesture seemed to please the demon.

“So this was some big…mating ritual?” Sam asked.

“I suppose,” Castiel said. “I’ve never done it before.”

“Could have fooled me,” Meg said with a grin. Dean choked on his coffee and glared at them.

“Well, someone has to clean up the mess. Cas, that’s your job.”

The purple-coated angel nodded and turned to look at the room. He immediately puffed up and even his hair bristled.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked.

“There’s another angel here.”

“What? Where?” Both brothers looked around. Meg felt Castiel’s grip on her tighten and he was swinging her into his arms. She beat his chest futilely.

“Hey! Not big on the romantic gestures!”

“I need to protect Meg,” the angel informed the Winchesters who could only stare open-mouthed at him.

“Sure?” Dean said.

Meg saw the way Castiel was staring at the big mirror on the wall. She felt his body tighten up as he glared at his reflection.

“You are such a dork. That’s you, feathers!”

“It…” He blinked and seemed to come back to himself. “Oh. Well… I had…better clean up.”

He began to set her down but Meg stopped him. “No point now, you’d better finish what you were starting.”

He stared at her and Meg grinned. Reaching up, she ran her fingers through his hair and scratched her nails gently across his scalp.

“Show me your dance again, Clarence, and I’ll show you mine.”

“You guys are so gross!” Dean shouted as the demon and angel blinked out of the room.

 

 

 

 


End file.
